


two-halved heart

by fenying



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:21:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22583956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenying/pseuds/fenying
Summary: 1: jaemin and chenle at the beach2: jaemin and jisung at the grocery store
Relationships: Na Jaemin/Park Jisung, Na Jaemin/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 12
Kudos: 62





	1. summers with you

**Author's Note:**

> two stand-alone drabbles, supposedly juxtaposed but really i wrote a jaemle and a jaemsung at separate times and decided i would just post them together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> orig. for genie on twt

“Chenle, popsicle.”

Chenle groans, rolling onto his side to swat weakly at Jaemin’s shoulder. “Get it yourself.”

“But you’re closer to the cooler,” whines Jaemin.

“Don’t care. Get it yourself.”

Grumbling, Jaemin pushes himself up off the blanket they’ve laid out onto the ground, sand trickling down his legs. He cracks an eye open and immediately closes it again, wincing at the sun’s brightness. “Kids are so ungrateful these days,” he says, prodding Chenle’s leg with his toe. “See if I ever do anything for you again.”

Chenle makes a small snuffling noise before rolling back to his original position, spread eagle on the blanket. “You love me,” he says, with the utmost confidence.

Jaemin scowls. “You sure about that?”

It’s just them right now, and it’s been just them for a while, sprawled out together under the lone umbrella they set up. The other four had walked off a while ago, each on his own strange errand. None of them have been seen for hours. Jaemin can’t even be sure he remembers their names anymore, his brain is _that_ fried from the heat.

He squints at a faraway seagull, returning its beady-eyed stare with a glare of his own. He’s hit with the sudden urge to chase it, but his muscles have gone and loosened themselves up while he was sinking into the sand, so that’s not an option. Head muddled, he convinces himself it’s a good idea to caw at it instead, so he does.

The seagull turns its head away, disgusted, before it flies off. Chenle chokes on his own laughter. Jaemin kicks his leg again.

So it’s just them. Chenle’s been lying here, undisturbed, the entire time. Jaemin steps over him to reach the cooler, popping the lid open and humming happily when he sees the last popsicle resting on a bed of slowly melting ice. He reaches out a hand to take it and stops just short of grabbing it when he gets a better idea.

“Does it really take that long just to get a popsicle?” calls Chenle, from the safety of the umbrella.

Jaemin scoffs, peeking over his shoulder to check that Chenle’s still lying there, eyes shut—completely unsuspecting. “Patience, grasshopper. I don’t see how this affects you, anyways, seeing as I’m not getting you one.”

He grabs a fistful of ice in each hand, careful not to let the cubes scrape loudly against each other as he pulls them out of the cooler. Rivulets of cold water stream down his arms, but he quickly grows numb to the sensation. He has better things to focus on.

“Why not,” whines Chenle. “You’re already there, anyways.”

“Fine, you big baby,” says Jaemin, holding back a laugh. “Here’s your popsicle.”

That’s when he attacks, leaping onto Chenle and shoving a handful of ice down his shirt. Chenle shrieks, and the sound splits Jaemin’s ears in the most beautiful way. “What the fuck!” he yells, thrashing.

Jaemin cackles, sitting on top of him and resisting Chenle’s attempts to buck him off. Gleefully, he drops the other handful of ice down Chenle's shirt too. “That’s what you get for being a brat!"

He reaches out for the cooler to see if he can grab any more ice to shove down Chenle’s shirt—a mistake. Chenle takes advantage of his momentary weakness to roll them over, pushing Jaemin flat on the sand and straddling him on top. “I hate you,” he hisses, yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere behind them.

Droplets of water trail down his chest, tracing wet lines into his skin that Jaemin’s fingers twitch with the urge to follow. His eyes flick up to meet Chenle’s. Slowly, he pulls his lips into a smirk. “No, you don’t.”

Chenle’s eyes follow the motion, burning with something a little less than fury and a little more than passion. “Try me,” he says, and leans down.


	2. time, frozen or thawed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by [this lovely piece of art](https://twitter.com/octpsm/status/1173219429871542272?s=20). the caption says "uni student and high school student" so uh, yeah.

Deep inside the grocery store near the freezer section, far away from any exits or windows, it’s easy to forget just how dark it is outside. The harsh, white lighting overhead disrupts the natural circadian rhythms of the body and makes one lose any sense of the passing of time. Which means that if Jisung tries really, really hard, he can pretend it’s not 9 p.m. in the middle of winter, it’s 3 p.m. in the middle of summer and he’s here to buy an entire box of popsicles that he will single handedly finish mere hours later.

Jisung squeezes his eyes shut, thinking of board shorts and rolling waves and hot sand underneath his feet.

The illusion promptly shatters when Jaemin rolls the cart to a stop and opens one of the freezer doors to sift through boxes of frozen pizza. A burst of cold air hits Jisung in the face, and suddenly he’s back to huddling for warmth in his pullover hoodie, legs criss-crossed inside the shopping cart that might have once fit him properly as a kid but is most definitely not meant for gangly almost-but-not-quite adults.

Jaemin leans the pizza box against the side of the cart. The design is upside down, but if Jisung squints, he can still make out the letters. “Digiorno?”

Jaemin shrugs. “It’s better than delivery.”

“No, it really is not,” says Jisung, but he drops it there. They’ve had this argument before.

Jaemin pushes the cart along, bringing them out of the freezer section and into the aisles with actual groceries. Jisung watches him scrutinize the wall of cereal, picking up two boxes of whole grain wheat cereal to compare them. Responsible. The Jaemin of last year would’ve dumped three boxes of Frosted Flakes in the cart and moved on.

“Special K or Honey Toasted Oats?” asks Jaemin, flipping one of the boxes over to read the nutrition label.

Wordlessly, Jisung knocks a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch into the cart.

Jaemin narrows his eyes at him, before shrugging and putting both boxes back onto the shelf. “You’re right.”

Jisung’s satisfied with the response. Not everything has changed.

But a lot has, he reminds himself, watching Jaemin as he brings them over to the eggs section. The hair, for one—Jaemin had dyed it bright pink while he was away for university, living it up at UCLA doing god knows what. The way he’s taken to carrying a small backpack around instead of trying to shove two battery packs and a water bottle into his pockets. The new glow to his face and depth to his gaze. Jisung doesn’t really know if Jaemin got any more mature after he left for college, but it sure feels like it.

Jisung feels so small, so young.

“I’ll make scrambled eggs when you come over for breakfast tomorrow,” says Jaemin, placing a carton of twelve on the top seat of the cart and moving on to dairy. “My mom said you didn’t visit her enough while I was away.”

“Sorry,” says Jisung. The truth is: it was weird to be in Jaemin’s house without Jaemin. He’d crashed on the couch in the Na living room countless times before, waiting for Jaemin to come home from sports practice or student council or tutoring or whatever, but it was different knowing he wouldn’t be back any time soon.

“It’s okay, you’ve probably been busy.” Jaemin holds up two jugs of milk for Jisung, setting the 2% one in the cart after Jisung points at it. “College apps and all that, right?”

Jisung looks away. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Boy, I do not miss _those_ days,” whistles Jaemin. “I was a wreck my senior year. Which is why I hope you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Uhhh…?”

Jaemin clicks his tongue. Jisung screws his eyes shut, bracing for what he knows is about to come and— yep, there it is. Jaemin’s forehead flicks still sting as much as ever. “Dumbass. Eat your breakfast and get more sleep.”

“You say that like I’m not trying,” whines Jisung.

Jaemin scoffs. “Try harder.”

A lot has changed since last year, since Jaemin left for college and left Jisung to navigate senior year without him. But, Jisung realizes, as Jaemin drops a kiss on his forehead before dropping a loaf of bread in his lap and wheeling them to the checkout counter, the fact that Jaemin always takes care of him hasn’t.


End file.
